The Ivy Chronicles: Overlander
by watcherinthesilence
Summary: Main storyline, The Files. For Gregor, Ivy is a place to grow, and a place to heal. All he's looking for is a new beginning, far away from the Underland and temptation - but Ivy International-Atlantic Academy is more than that. So much more.
1. One: The Letter

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own: _Gregor the Overlander_.

_**Author's Note:**_ The _IIAA Chronicles_ is a series that combines several fandoms - _Axis Powers Hetalia, Yu-Gi-Oh! (GX_ and _5D's)_, _Merlin_, _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and _Angel_ (treating _Season 8_ and _After the Fall_ as non-canonical), _Digimon_ (to an extent), _American Dragon: Jake Long_, _Percy Jackson and the Olympians_, and, of course, _Gregor the Overlander_ - with several original characters, an original setting, and original villains and plots. The basic premise is explained on my profile, with links to more information to understand the universe, and I'll probably be posting "resources" as separate stories to better explain IIAA.

Although it's not actually an alternate universe of any of the above fandoms, there are definitely elements of dimension-hopping and time travel in the story. This is neither the first nor the last installment in the main storyline - _The Files_ - but storylines do not have to, and should not, be read in order. Although connected by an overarching storyline, "Overlander" is completely stand-alone.

Watch out for coming storylines (The Files [Staff], Missions, and Alternate Universe looks on what might have been), as well as future installments. And now, on with the show.

* * *

The letter came on the Wednesday four weeks after he came home from the Underland. He hadn't been there when the mailman came to drop off the post, so he hadn't been the first to read it. After he came home, he'd taken to wandering around Central Park, staring at the slab of stone that concealed the drop to above the Waterway, almost and almost and almost touching but never quite. Knowing that that part of his life was over, no matter what his parents decided about the Virginia move (_There. The warrior's dead. I killed him._), and that he had to learn to give it up, or he never would. "It's like an addiction that you have to break," Mrs. Cormaci had said when he'd confided in her. "There's nothing wrong with it, Gregor. Just remember to live."

Remember to live. It sounded so easy. He'd spent the last few weeks learning how to die, and now he had to learn how to live.

He wished he'd had some more time. To say goodbye – to Nerissa, to Vikus, to Ripred, to Howard, to Hazard, to Luxa. To Ares.

The day the letter came had been a particularly bad one for him. He'd woken up with the sheets twisted around him, soaked to the bone in cold sweat and a scream he'd never voiced still echoing in his mind. It was odd, really, that he never had dreams of the war itself, but always of the things he associated with it – bloodthirsty rats, snow in a world secluded from the weather, a place where he couldn't see and couldn't make a sound (and falling, always falling, and there is no one there to catch him-).

Over breakfast his parents (so tired, so weak, so weary) had explained to him that they would try to get him back in school before the month was out, and Lizzie, too, and then the rest of the morning had been taken up with more talk about the Virginia move that he couldn't even begin to understand. Walking around Central Park for two hours after lunch had helped. Helped so much he couldn't even begin to describe. But it was always two hours, no more, for if his parents noticed he was gone longer, he'd come home to screaming and crying and _Where were you, Gregor? Where were you? We were worried – so worried – never do that again!_ And it was horrible to say, even in his head, but he was getting tired of having to say, "I'm sorry;" even though he really wasn't.

When he came home, everybody's heads swung up to look at him from the kitchen table. He froze in the doorway.

"Gregor," Mrs. Cormaci said. "Come in."

He closed the door behind him warily, but did not step further into the room. Both his mother and father were looking at him with an almost calculating stare, and there was little blood in Lizzie's face. Even Boots was quiet, for once. "Hi," he said. No answer. "Um, what's going on?"

His dad offered him a piece of paper. "Take a look for yourself. This came in the mail this morning."

Gregor took it and flipped it over. Printed on it was the shortest letter he'd ever seen:

GREGOR CALDERON:

CONGRATULATIONS. YOU HAVE BEEN ACCEPTED AS A SCHOLARSHIP STUDENT TO IVY INTERNATIONAL-ATLANTIC ACADEMY (LOCATED NEAR DALLAS, TEXAS) BASED ON PRESTIGEOUS RECOMMENDATION.

YOU ARE ONE OF ELEVEN STUDENTS TO BE SELECTED TO ATTEND OR RETURN FOR THE SECONDARY CLASS. IVY INTERNATIONAL-ATLANTIC IS REKNOWN FOR ITS EXCLUSIVE NATURE AND THE EXCELLENCE ITS ALUMNI HAVE ACHIEVED, MANY GOING ON TO IVY LEAGUE SCHOOLS, JUILLIARD, OR IVY'S OWN GRADUATION PROGRAM. IVY IS ALSO ACKNOWLEDGED FOR ITS EXCEPTIONAL PROGRAMS IN THE FINE ARTS (THEATRE, MUSIC STUDIES, LITERATURE, AND ART) AND PHYSICAL ARTS (DANCE, ATHLETICS, COMPETITIVE SPORTS, NONCOMPETITIVE SPORTS, AND MORE) AS WELL AS ITS CURRICULUM.

WE AT IIAA (IVY INTERNATIONAL-ATLANTIC ACADEMY) ARE CERTAIN THAT YOUR TALENTS HERE WOULD ADD TO THE DIVERSITY AND COHESIVENESS THE STUDENT BODY POSSESSES. PLEASE CALL THE FOLLOWING NUMBER TO SCHEDULE AN APPOINTMENT WITH ONE OF THE THREE HEADS OF ADMISSION, SO WE MAY NEGOTIATE THE TERMS OF EITHER YOUR ACCEPTENCE OR REFUSAL. FOR FURTHER INFORMATION, CALL THIS NUMBER: (000)1249771

WE HOPE TO SEE YOU SHORTLY.

SINCERELY,

ARTHUR KIRKLAND  
DIRECTOR OF IIAA  
HEAD OF IIAA HISTORY AND ENGLISH DEPARTMENTS  
CHAIR II ON THE IIAA EXECUTIVE BOARD

IZAYOI AKI  
HEAD OF IIAA ARTS AND CULTURAL STUDIES  
CHAIR I ON THE IIAA EXECUTIVE BOARD

MERLIN EMRYS  
OFFICIARY AND SECRETARIAL DUTIES  
CHAIR IV ON THE IIAA EXECUTIVE BOARD

And then, in smaller, handwritten letters near the bottom:

_Sorry about the nature of this entire thing, really. Arthur's horrid at writing letters._

Gregor looked up as he finished reading. Mrs. Cormaci, his mother, father, and Lizzie were all staring fixedly at him. Boots was just tugging at one of the braids Lizzie had woven into her hair that morning. "Well?" said his dad. "What do you think?"

Frankly, Gregor was still at the "scholarship" part.

He glanced down at the letter, trying to pick out something else that had caught his attention the first time he'd read it. "_Prestigious recommendation?_ I haven't even been to school all this year, and I was never great at it when I was. Who would have recommended me?" He glanced up, but no one seemed to have an answer for him. "Ivy League schools? Juilliard?"

"Very famous colleges, Gregor," his dad explained. "The Ivy League is the eight oldest colleges in the entire country, but everyone knows them as eight of the best. For high schools students 'Ivy League' pretty much means 'smartest schools in the country.' And Juilliard is the best school you could want to get into for performing arts – that is, dance, drama, and music."

"So this school's a pretty exclusive one, then." Gregor looked back down at the letter. "But then, why do they want me? I haven't been anything special in school. Why not Lizzie?" The girl in question flushed and looked away. "Or someone else?"

"I don't know, honey," his mother admitted. "But they want you."

"One of eleven," his dad said. "In the entire country."

"Frankly, the entire thing sounds like a big hoax to me," Mrs. Cormaci murmured. Gregor had to agree with her; he ran track, played the saxophone in the school band. But that was it. He wasn't even really an A-honors student for the most part, except in English and Science, and Math when his dad was there to help him. He looked up, saw on the faces of his mom and dad that they thought the same. He wasn't even offended; it was just the truth.

"I don't trust them, either," he said. He saw his mom and dad exchanging strange looks, and felt a tinge of unease mixed with irritation travel down his spine.

"The letter looks very official, though," Lizzie said.

His attention snapped back to her, and then back down to the letter. She had a point. "That doesn't necessarily mean anything, though," his dad said, and Gregor found he had a point, too. "There are plenty of people who could fake that."

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Mrs. Cormaci sighed. "Gregor, just call the number. It can't hurt to talk to them, to see if they really are who they say they are. The whys and hows and reasons of it we can all debate later. Gregor," and she fixed him with a very piercing look, "if this place really is legitimate, and all of the talk about fancy colleges and programs isn't just talk, this is a real opportunity. We can worry about _how_ or _why you_ later."

"We don't want to rush you into any kind of decision, Gregor," his mom explained. "But it wouldn't hurt just to take a look, would it?"

They liked this school. Were skeptical of it, but Gregor knew, by the way Boots was watching him intently and hadn't said anything since her quiet greeting – an unprecedented event in this house – and by the way Lizzie couldn't look at him, and by the way his mom and dad and Mrs. Cormaci were all so quick to agree, that something had already been decided. They'd been talking about this long before he walked in the door, and he knew – something had already been decided.

He glanced back down at the letter. _Dallas, Texas_, the neat, computer-automated print said, like a blow between the eyes. A fancy boarding school miles away, where he could try to get back to the normal life they could all quite plainly see he was never going to get back to in New York, so close to the place it had all started, so surrounded by remnants of the person he was before. A new beginning. A new beginning miles away from the Underland. For that, he knew, his parents and Lizzie and Boots could survive without him.

He wondered why that sounded so good.

"Yeah, okay," he said, and reached for the phone.

* * *

_**Author's Notes:**_ Not a prologue because it jumps right into the action, but also not a true first chapter where IIAA is brought into the spotlight and the real plot begins. I know, Boots is too quiet, but she's at that age - right between three and four - where the energy of a toddler starts to settle down and change before turning into the energy of a little kid, and a dramatic change in lifestyle - remember, she's been living in the Underland with Gregor for quite a while, engaged in war that she has some understanding, if not a lot, of, and missing one or both parents for nearly as long as she's been alive - has been shown to affect the psyche of children as much as it affects the psychological make-up of older children, like Gregor, and adults. Next chapter, the real work begins.

Updates might be slow - just letting you know now - but there's a good, good chance I won't abandon this. Next up: the beginning of _Arc I: The Destinies in an Open Hand_, and the beginning of Gregor's introduction to IIAA. Until then.

Fly you high. Watcher.


	2. Arc I: The Destinies in an Open Hand

it is easier for a war to begin with a whisper  
than with a gunshot  
easier to slide down the slippery slope  
gently  
like the innocence of a sled in winter  
or the childhood of a martyr  
than to choose

to end the world

the first decision  
is always the hardest  
(the fool, the magician)  
for the possibility beneath it  
has never come before  
and will never come again

the first raindrop is always the heaviest  
and harsh light of stars on the eve before  
the cruelest  
it is not the monsters we fear  
but opening the closet door

(and yet the soldiers fight onward  
and a child takes that first step)

for nothing can compare  
to the blooming  
of a fragile flower

**i: the destinies in an open han****d**

**

* * *

**

_**Author's Notes:**_ And so it begins. Welcome, kiddies, to the first story arc of _Overlander_: "The Destinies in an Open Hand."

"Destinies" is mainly going to be focusing on Gregor as he is confronted with the offers presented to him, and the possible ramifications of his choice. The first half is mainly going to be dealing with his family and friends, while the second half is probably going to be focused on the IIAA characters, as he learns what's being offered and the choices he'll have to make. It's mostly perfunctory, before we can get to the real plot, but it's also very important for establishing character relations, and setting the tone for what Gregor's first year is going to be like. And foreshadowing. There are going to be oodles and oodles of foreshadowing. Both in the romance department and in the plot department, so look out there.

The IIAA students are just going to get the barest introductions and establishing character moments here, so no real heavy-duty backstory-revealing yet, and the staff is going to be in it very little (if at all), but I'm having fun writing Gregor's current friends and family. Major themes for this arc are going to be the importance of healing versus remembering, and, to a smaller extent, Gregor's duty to the people around him versus his duty to himself. The biggest part here is going to revolve around Gregor's choice, and how it'll affect him and other people, as well. Memories we're definitely going to get into heavy-duty, as well as hint at the consequences of Gregor's actions in the Underland and how they'll affect the future.

I know the way this is going to go, and once we hit summer, updates will probably be coming thick and fast. Luckily, I can't wait.

Fly you high. Watcher.


	3. One: The Call

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own: _Gregor the Overlander_, _Yu-Gi-Oh! 5D's_, and _Axis Powers Hetalia_.

* * *

They only had to wait two rings before he heard the telltale click and murmur of voices on the other end of the line.

"Put it on speaker," his dad said. He did, all the while listening curiously to the low sound of voices on the other end – two people who'd been in a conversation, and hadn't stopped when one picked up the phone? The idea struck him as odd. Not rude yet, but maybe halfway there.

"Hello?" someone chirped out without warning, and Gregor started. "Ivy International-Atlantic, may I help you?"

He wasn't quite sure what he'd been expecting – probably an automated message or something equally pretentious at a school for pretentious people, but a bright, very young, somewhat low but definitely female, voice had not been a possibility. "Um, hi."

"Hello." There was some confusion there, swiftly followed by more whispers and then a soft _oh_ of realization. "Hang on, you're Gregor, right?"

"Ah. Yes?"

"Right. Well, one minute, I'll see if I can get Aki or Merlin to come to the phone, they're who you'll be wanting to talk to." Another low exchange of voices, and then a clunk as someone set the phone not-too-gently on a hard surface. Gregor and Lizzie exchanged glances, clearly thinking the same thing, Gregor being confronted with his ever-growing doubt that this place was what it said it was – and somehow, inexplicably, at the same time being ever more convinced that it _was._ It didn't seem the fount of all professionalism like the letter had implied, but at the same time, it didn't seem like a bad fake, either. Not like the people behind this were so concerned with appearing professional they botched it up, but like they honestly didn't care what they appeared to be. Because . . .

"I don't like this," said his mom, and Boots chuffed in agreement. Gregor exchanged looks with Mrs. Cormaci, and was reassured that at least someone knew different.

Another tangle of voices. Gregor glanced back at the receiver and waited, but it was still a surprise when a voice – mild and good-natured – boomed from the speaker; "Hello. This is Gregor Calderon, calling about the invitation we sent you."

"I. Yes," he said.

"All right. One moment, please." The sound of rustling, and Gregor tried to place what the person on the other end could possibly be doing, surprised when he found it wasn't really that hard; like echolocation, only different, and hampered by the tinny quality of the phone. Now the person was standing. Now she – and Gregor was nearly absolutely sure by this point that the newcomer was a woman – was moving to another room. Now she was sitting down. Now she was shifting to get comfortable. "Do you have anybody with you who we could speak to in a legal capacity? A parent, or a guardian," she clarified, as Gregor opened his mouth to ask what she meant.

"That would be me," his dad leaned over and spoke into the speaker.

"Oh, good. Mr. Calderon, am I correct?"

"That's right."

"It's nice to meet you both," she said, and there was a hint of a smile in her voice. "I'm Aki Izayoi. Or Izayoi Aki, if you want to say it the foreign way. Just call me Aki. I'm the Arts and Cultural Studies teacher here, as well as Head of Relations. What were you calling to ask about?"

"We wanted some more information about your school," his dad began. "Before we started making a decision, you understand."

"Of course. Was there anything in particular you wanted to talk about?"

His dad motioned vaguely, and Gregor handed the phone over to him before moving to perch himself on the counter. "We were wondering about the potential costs and benefits – you know, things like that. About the school, reasons why it would be a good idea for Gregor's future, weigh the pros and cons-"

"Well, aside from the reputation of Ivy's secondary education program among colleges – fine arts, liberal arts colleges, and specialization universities alike – there's also the benefits of the education here, and the physical benefits, of course. The curriculum, both academically and in extracurriculars, far exceeds district and national standards – and of course I'm required to say that, as it's my school, but by nation-wide examination, inspectors say the same thing . . . "

"And what were you saying about physical benefits?"

"Oh, well, the school's near a small town in Texas, and the entire place is built on around one and a half hectares of land; there's a track, a training stadium, below the indoor gymnasium there's an indoor rink for ice skating – actually, I do private tutoring in figure skating – so the physical education and athletics classes aren't a total flop, like the public district schools nearby."

"Well, until about a year or so ago, Gregor ran track for his school – how would that-"

* * *

Gregor knew he should be paying attention to this – it was about his future, after all – but after the thirty-minute mark, the discussion between Aki Izayoi and his father seemed to be blurring in his mind, erasing the distinctions between the explanation of a fancy private school and a two-hour lecture about the distinctions of the five main groups of vertebrae in kingdom _Anamalia_ last spring, in Mr. Sayer's biology class. He glanced around distractedly and caught Lizzie's eye; she gave him a disapproving look and jerked her head to the speaker, clearly indicating he should be listening. He shook his head mildly at her and shot a grin at her from underneath the fringe of his hair, and counted it as a victory when he saw a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Since his near-death and their return from the Underland, coaxing a smile out of Lizzie had been even harder than ever. Just another thing the Underland had wrung from their family, though a small one to anybody else.

Boots slipped off of the high-backed chair she was currently swinging her feet on and quietly padded over to him; he smiled and hoisted her up, theatrically making a face in complaint as she lodged her arms around his neck. She was getting to be a lot heavier than he remembered. She just looked at him seriously – as seriously as a three-year-old could get, anyway. "Gregor leaving?"

He tightened his arms around her, and suddenly the thought of ever leaving her was unbearable. "No," he murmured, then amended, "we don't know yet." But it seemed to reassure her, and she complacently tucked her head into the crook between shoulder and neck before quietly settling into a doze.

He wondered, mildly, what the adults had said to upset her into exhaustion before something Aki was saying over the phone line shook him back into attention.

" . . . reported, actually, with quite a few of our scholarship students like Gregor that it doesn't even take that long to adjust to the school – two months on average – and just under a year to catch up curriculum-wise," Aki was saying. Gregor glanced around and saw his mother and Lizzie listening intently as Aki spoke, as if their fervor could somehow carry through the line and coax the truth from this woman who smiled through her voice. Only Mrs. Cormaci seemed as distracted as he; she was looking at him, something too-piercing in her gaze, and he had a feeling that she knew what he was thinking, even if he didn't know at all. "There's a lot more to it, of course, but I've watched some of our faculty teach, and I'm even a teacher myself, and even though a lot of what we do is advanced, the explanations also aren't that hard to follow – I'm sure it'd be easy enough for Gregor to get on level-"

(Gregor refrained from laughing out loud, but only just.) His father shot him a _look_, as if he knew exactly what Gregor was thinking about. "I wonder." _Ha!_ He had been thinking the exact same thing! "Sorry, what were you saying about tutoring earlier?"

"Ivy isn't a very large school," she said in reply. "I think it said on the letter, I don't entirely recall what England – Arthur, sorry – wrote before sending it off . . . if he decides to attend, Gregor will be the tenth student in his class. But there are some benefits to that as well. The number of teachers is actually very close to the number of secondary students, so there's quite a bit more one-on-one than in public schools, and there's a sense of . . . how should I say it? _Community._ There's a sense of comradeship among the students – we had a new student just a few months ago, actually, and our long-time students here have been doing so much to help him integrate smoothly here. It's working quite well."

"I see," said his father. He looked over at Gregor, obviously asking for his opinion, but Gregor just shrugged in return, careful not to dislodge Boots. Listening was all well and good, and interesting enough if he admitted it to himself – it was certainly no fault of this school that he was finding it increasingly hard to sit still. But somehow, he just couldn't erase the image in his mind: a large castle-like building, dark walls, secluded, lonely dormitories he would be left alone in.

A crowd of snooty private-school kids, with the money to afford it and the knowledge of it, no matter what Aki Izayoi said to the contrary.

And him, on _scholarship_ – for a reason he _still_ wasn't aware of – and he found he couldn't bring himself to care, one way or another. Virginia or Texas or New York City – it was all the same. He couldn't go back to the Underland – he'd promised himself that. And at least in Texas, the length of several small countries away, he could escape temptation.

"What about the costs?" his dad said.

The atmosphere in the room changed considerably; Lizzie looked up from where she had been staring at the grain of the wood of the table for a few moments, his mom stiffened ever-so-slightly, even Gregor sat up straighter. This was the final part – the ending point to this discussion. His parents, at least, wanted the same outcome he did, even if it was for something else – to keep him away from the temptation of the grate in the laundry room, the loose stone in Central Park. But how much? How much would they measure the desire to keep their son safe and well and _away_ in dollar signs? Or, that wasn't the problem at all – even if they could afford the idea, could they afford it in real life?

They'd never been able to up to now.

Gregor knew – suddenly, inexplicably – that this was where the fantasy would end. The idea of a shining, faraway boarding school – disappeared. As if it had never existed.

"There aren't any," Aki said. "If you decide to enroll, Gregor will be joining us as a full scholarship student."

He was sure everyone in the room stopped breathing for exactly half a minute.

Surprisingly (or perhaps not surprisingly at all) it was his mother who drew breath in first, and in her expression there was a turning mechanism of emotions – disbelief, suspicion, a wild sort of hope. He wasn't sure what was splashed across his face. He still wasn't sure what he felt about it.

"No costs?" his dad repeated weakly.

"No costs," Aki confirmed. The hint of a smile was back in her voice, like she knew the effect her pronouncement had had and was glad of it. "Unless you choose to pay for Gregor's uniform or cafeteria meals, as a favor to the school, which would both be provided free of charge, in any case."

"I . . . wow." He laughed faintly. "You know, that's the best offer I've heard in a long time."

"I had figured it might be," Aki said wryly. "Now, do you have any more questions, or could you give me a rough estimate of how long it will take you to make a decision?"

"I'm still not entirely convinced that Gregor has the academic security to be prepared for the rigor you describe," his dad said (Gregor scowled inwardly – even though it was true, hearing it laid out like that, so blatantly, so matter-of-factly, was still a blow – but then he noticed the way his father glanced at him, and the note of apology in his voice, and all of the wounded pride folded in on itself), "but we'll talk it over with the family, see what they say-"

"Oh, you won't have to worry about that," Aki said cheerfully. "Despite what it may seem, Ivy's not a school for geniuses, it's for making people into them. Besides, I'm sure you can do it. Are there any more questions left?"

And just as Gregor was wondering how Aki knew he was still there, still lingering and listening, when his mother – his shaking, sickly, impossibly strong mother – stepped over to his father's side and spoke into the phone, "Yes, I have one, if you don't mind, Miss Izayoi."

"Please, call me Aki," she said. "Mrs. Calderon, right?"

"That's right."

"It's a pleasure to meet you. What did you want to ask?"

"We were wondering-" she glanced around, if for confirmation, before reaching for the letter that lay abandoned on the kitchen table, "-the letter here – it says Gregor was admitted because of 'prestigious recommendation,' do I have that right?"

"Yes, that's right," Aki said.

"Well, we wanted to know who recommended him?"

(Trust his mother. Trust his mother to ask the greatest question of all when everybody else had already forgotten, swept up in promises of school and honors societies and scholarships, but Gregor looked down and saw Boot's open eyes, boring intently into the speakers, like she could see through them, and thought, for the millionth time in his life, that he wished he understood the way she just seemed to _know_ these things.)

"Oh," said Aki, "he's actually a very close friend of mine. He sent the letter to me five months ago, actually, but we only just now received it – I think he still has problems believing we don't live in the Dark Ages any longer, ha - I believe you know him, too? His name is Ripred."

_-and for the longest moment, the only sound in the room was the noise of five people inhaling at once, and the _bang_ of Lizzie's chair as it clattered t__o the floor._

"Mousie?" Boots asked, and somehow that made it more real than anything else since he'd first stepped through that hole and emerged in a world he no longer knew.

"Oh dear," Mrs. Cormaci said, and that seemed to sum it up.

The ensuing beat stretched longing for December. His father cleared his throat, opened his mouth and closed it again, but no sound came out. His mother – Gregor thought that was the worst of all. Her expression had closed off entirely – it was blank, shuttered, cold. And why not? She had almost lost all of her family to the Underland, except for Grandma. Boots, Lizzie, Gregor – any one of them could have died in the last battle, while she was penned up in the Fount, unable to even know what was going on in Regalia. And his dad – well. That's what had started the whole thing, wasn't it?

"I think," his mom said, and it didn't come at a surprise at all, that she was first to speak, "that we should arrange a face-to-face meeting. To discuss this further."

"Of course. If you'd rather, I can arrange a meeting in New York for you, if you don't want to fly down to Texas," said Aki.

"That'd be good," his dad finally recovered his voice. "Yes. Thank you."

"All right. How does Friday afternoon sound? After three? Arthur's actually holed up in a meeting in New York City right now, with one a student, but he'll be off by Friday. I can call him to tell him to meet with you."

"That sounds fine," said his mom. "Where would you like us to meet you?"

"How about Central Park?" Aki said. "The East side. You'll be meeting with Arthur Kirkland."

"All right. And how will we know this 'Arthur Kirkland'?"

And, miracle of miracles, Aki laughed – a clear, bright sound that lightened the air and weighed it down with so much more all at once. "Oh, you'll know him," she said, and Gregor didn't doubt it. If they had to look for a man wearing a clown suit and a wig – he didn't doubt what Aki said. "After all, there aren't many twenty-four-year-olds dressed in a fancy suit and tie."

And with that, his father placed the phone back onto the receiver, and Gregor set down Boots and turned around, bracing himself for the argument that was undoubtedly to come.

* * *

As it turns out, they did know Arthur Kirkland by sight. But not because of the suit and tie, not because of his young, unlined face, not because he was perched on the stone that marked the entrance to the Underland – the one that had been tempting Gregor for four weeks, ever since he left it.

No, they knew him because of the silver-gilded blade the equally nicely-dressed girl in front of him was swinging as he smiled and murmured encouragements into the air – like a whisper, like a breeze, like a fiery tangle of lies.

* * *

_**Author's Notes:**_ We're beginning to bring bits of the Underland into this. And yes, I am fully aware that the hard cut is - well, just that. Hard, blunt, and somewhat jarring. There's a reason for that. Also, if you've been reading non-chronologically or linearly, you can probably guess: the girl at the end is Ella.

The argument between Gregor and his parents is covered in the next chapter, as well as some events leading up to the meeting, and part of the meeting itself. If the conversations between Aki and Gregor's parents felt stilted as well, it's mainly because of both the circumstances and the way Gregor's family probably still has issues dealing with surprise and trauma after the events of the past year. Their family has been exposed to so much implausibility, when something implausible happens again, they just take it in stride. My parents, for example, would have thrown the letter out as a hoax when I was growing up, and it's likely that, before his mom's bite, Gregor's family would have, too. However, despite how much they want to get back to normality, what they've seen has made them - well, less and more gullible at the same time. They're trying to deal with Aki in a normal manner, but their brains are having trouble processing what's "normal" any more - for example, they don't notice that it's not normal to have considered the letter at all.

As with the prologue, not a lot going on here, but things are getting started. This, again, is partially to establish characters and basic premise, but also to impart vital information, as well as foreshadow a bit. IIAA is not what it seems, and everyone seems to know that - then again, no one seems to know exactly how.

Fly you high. Watcher.


End file.
